Strictly Commercial

If my fantasy dinner party ever takes place (not likely as long as Bill and Frank insist on being dead) the conversation at some point is likely to move on to the subject of advertising. Bill Hicks once said that when a celebrity advertises or endorses a product they can no longer be trusted. There are a couple of recent examples that spring to mind of celebrities who, therefore, we can no longer trust:

- Iggy Pop, who recently advertised insurance for a company that, ironically, won’t insure musicians.

- Obi Wan Kenobi, who recently advertised a brand of aftershave. This one is particularly disappointing, given that neither Yoda nor Artoo Detoo, who have struggled to find work since the end of the Star Wars saga, have sunk to such levels. Imagine if Yoda advertised for L’Oreal “because worth it I am”. Or what if everyone’s favourite mech-droid entered into a licensing agreement with Ann Summers for the ‘Artoo-Dildo’.

Anyway, at what point does such commercialism become unacceptable in Bill’s eyes? Everyone in the entertainment industry is commercial in that they want people to go see a film, buy a CD or DVD or go to see them live. It makes me laugh when I read interviews with bands, and they claim not to be commercial. WHAT?!? They are being blatantly commercial right there, calling out to the kids who think that they’re ‘different’, whilst at the same time admitting that they’re not as good as, say, Radiohead or Metallica.

I think that the part that Bill found most objectionable is when celebrities advertise a product that bears no relation to the thing that they are famous for. A complete sell-out by people who don’t need the money, motivated by greed alone.

In my previous blog, which was about music magazines, I expressed annoyance at famous musicians advertising products that they then get for free. However, back in the 1960s Frank Zappa featured in a magazine advertisement for an electric organ. The advertising slogan was “This is the best fucking organ I ever played”.

I think Bill would forgive him.

And I think that if George Foreman was to say “my grill knocks seven barrels of shit out of the competition” he could be forgiven too.

Oh and by the way, Rose Kebab make the best fucking chicken donner I ever tasted.